


Moving Day

by Elise_Madrid



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Madrid/pseuds/Elise_Madrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle check out their new flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a pic challenge made on the Yahoo group, ProsSlash.

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/gilda_elise/pic/00001pdr/)   


The alarm went off with a blast of music. Doyle opened his eyes with a groan and squinted against the light emitting from his clock-radio. Five bloody forty-five in the morning. He glanced toward the window. It was still dark outside. He threw out his hand, shut off the music and burrowed back under the covers.

His eyes fluttered shut and he lay there for awhile, idly wondering why the alarm had been set so early and at full volume. Almost asleep again, it hit him. Moving day.

He pushed himself up with his hands and bounded out of bed. It was still a bit chill in the flat but Doyle hardly felt it. Wasn’t often it worked out that he moved to a new flat and had a couple of days in which to do it. Saturday morning and he didn’t have to report back to work until Tuesday. He shrugged into his dressing gown and headed for the bathroom.

His shower was a quick one; the one thing he wouldn’t miss about this place was how, like clockwork, the water would start running cold after three minutes. Stepping out, he toweled himself dry and threw on the clothes he’d put aside for the day. The rest of his morning ablutions were also done in haste, and as each item was used it was carefully placed in the open box he’d left out the night before. Everything else was packed and ready to go.

Skirting through the stacks of boxes, he made his way into the kitchen. He stopped cold at the entrance to the room. Bloody hell. He’d forgotten to leave anything out to eat, much less the utensils to cook it with. Maybe he could catch Bodie before he left his flat.

He went into the living room to call his partner. No answer. Doyle eyed the RT sitting next to his jacket. He hated using it; never knew when the Cow would be close at hand and interpret the call as a good reason to call him in to work. Bugger it, he’d starve first.

Doyle surveyed the room. Wasn’t too bad; wouldn’t take more than two trips to empty it out. With a sigh, he picked up the closest box. Soonest started, soonest done, as his mum always said. Load in hand, he unlocked the door, threw it wide and trudged on down the hallway.

^^^^^

Stopped at a light a couple of streets away from his destination, Doyle caught a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of a baking bread. He glanced around and saw the small shop sitting on the opposite corner. He almost kept going; he knew Bodie would be waiting for him and his partner was not one who took delays easily. The loud growl from his stomach decided him; when the light turned he crossed the junction and pulled over to the kerb.

The place was busy. He got in line to order and prayed it wouldn’t take too long. His luck to get behind a couple of birds who couldn’t decide if they wanted croissants or something more substantial. Twenty minutes later he hurried out of the shop, fresh pastries in one bag, two cups of coffee in the other. He got in his vehicle, taking the time to make sure nothing would spill before pulling into traffic, and was on his way once more.

Doyle was lucky enough to find a parking space directly across the street from where his new flat was located. He grabbed his packages as he got out of the car and ambled over to where the familiar silver ghia sat right in front of the block. Behind the wheel his partner slumped against the door, sound asleep.

“Wake up, you lazy sod.” Doyle squatted down next to the car and rapped on the partially rolled down window.

Bodie threw him a dirty look as he straightened from his cramped position. “Took your time getting here. Was beginning to think you’d gone lost.”

“Brought you breakfast, you ungrateful bastard.”

Brightening visibly, Bodie motioned him out of the way as he pushed open the door and climbed out.

“How long you been here?” Doyle asked as he handed over a cup of coffee.

“Not long.” Bodie took the cup as they both started toward the building. He eyed the block of flats. “Nice old building; know which one it is?”

“Nah, couldn’t find the note. I think I left it in the pocket of the trousers I was wearing. Cowley said something about the name on the intercom already being changed, though. Thought we could check there first.”

They skirted the wrought-iron fencing and made their way up the ramp to front of the block. Bodie placed his coffee on the ground and leaned against the pillar, his arms crossed. He peered at the line of name tags. “Don’t see anything.”

“Right here, near the bottom. Number three seventeen. Bloody hell, that’s a ways up.”

“Nothing to be done about it, sunshine. Could be worse; could be on top.”

Doyle gave him a look and then started toward the building’s entry. “Come on. I want to take a look at the place before we start hauling the stuff in.”

Bodie grabbed his coffee and quickly followed.

Inside, they entered the large and relatively modern lift. Bodie pushed the button for their floor and beamed when the contraption actually started up. “This will make things easier. The way you collect stuff, I’ll be lucky to get off without breaking me back.”

“Sod off, Bodie. I’ve seen you eyeing my tin soldier collection. I’ll certainly know where to look any of them come up missing.”

“Don’t need any of your toys, Doyle. Got one of my own, now don’t I?” Bodie ruffled his partner’s hair.

Doyle scowled at him and slapped his hand away. “None of that. We’ve got work to do.”

The lift came to a stop. Stepping out, Doyle checked the numbers on the doors and then motioned to the left. “Must be down this way.”

The flat turned out to be at the end of the hall, well away from the general foot traffic but near the stairs, an obvious plus as far as Doyle was concerned. He’d found that the less his neighbors knew of his comings and goings the better.

Doyle dug the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The alarm system had already been connected, so his first act was to disengage it before moving to the center of the living room. He slowly turned, mentally cataloguing the place. “‘S nice.”

“Yeah, wonder what got into the Cow; not like him to come across with something so posh.” Bodie plopped down on one of the sofas that huddled around a decent-sized coffee table. “I’m starving. Hand over my breakfast.”

Doyle took a seat across from his partner. He fished out a Danish and handed it over to Bodie. “Here, wrap your mouth around this. Just hurry it up; I want to get this over and done with.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Got plans.”

Bodie took a swig of coffee to wash down a mouthful of pastry. “You didn’t tell me anything about any plans.”

“How often do we get three days off in a row?”

“Not often.”

“And how often have we been called in when we do?”

“‘S been known to happen now and again.”

“Not this time.” Doyle pointed a finger at his partner. “You and me are going to finish getting everything put away and then we’ll not be seen again until Tuesday morning.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Never mind.” Doyle hurriedly finished his meal, dusted his hands off and stood up. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Well, hurry up. I’m going to start unloading my car,” Doyle tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

Bodie gave the bag of pastries one last look and then reluctantly got up and followed him out.

^^^^^

It took a little longer than they thought it would. By noon, Bodie was heartily tired of listening to Doyle complain about how slow he was, how he didn’t know how to pack the stuff into the car and how he kept putting stuff away in the wrong places. If he didn’t love the evil-tempered little sod so much he would surely have wrung his neck by now. As it was, Bodie made sure whatever room Doyle happened to be unloading his things into, he was in another.

Finally, they were on the last load. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed the last remaining box from the boot of the car. “That’s all of it.”

Doyle poked his head out from where he’d crawled into the back seat. “Couple of things in here. I’ve got ‘em, though. You go ahead.”

Bodie shrugged and hurried into the building, taking the stairs two at a time. They’d given up using the lift after the second trip, it slowed them down so much. He headed for the living room and the bookcase that sat in the far corner; the weight of the box had left little doubt as to its contents. He’d only managed to open the box when he noticed Doyle enter the flat and head directly for the main bedroom.

One last box to empty and they’d be done. He settled himself on the floor and was carefully shelving the books in exactly the order they’d been in before when his stomach gave a loud growl.

He glanced up at the clock on the mantel; nice, getting a place with a working fireplace. Half past one, no wonder he was hungry. He quickly finished with the books, though not taking as much care as he had been. Really didn’t matter; Doyle would have them rearranged and out of order in no time.

Bodie leaned over and snatched the bag of pastries from the coffee table. They were hard and stale but would do in a pinch. Munching on a dry croissant, he got up and headed for the kitchen. Maybe he could talk Doyle into preparing something to eat.

“Ray, you done in there? ‘S way past my lunch time.” Bodie glanced over at the bedroom’s half-closed door. “Ray? What the hell you doing in there, mate?”

No answer. Now that was strange. He knew he’d seen Doyle come in. “Doyle, you in there?”

Just bloody wonderful. Where the hell had the golli got to? Bodie made his way over to the bedroom and slowly pushed open the door. “Ray? You hidin’ in-”

Surprise shut him up. He walked into the room, gaping all the while. He hadn’t been in here; Doyle had commandeered the room, telling Bodie he’d only be in the way and to concentrate on the other bedroom. Bodie hadn’t given it much thought; unpacking was unpacking. Didn’t make much difference which room.

He slowly turned, taking in the transformation Doyle had wrought. Doyle’s brass bed sat at an angle in one corner; its deep blue bedspread matched the curtains that muted the midday sun and gave the room an indigo cast. Everywhere, his and Doyle’s belongings had been combined to create something more, something better than they had been alone. Toy soldiers stood at attention before a frieze of dancing ladies while pictures from both their old flats hung artfully together on the other wall. Their guitars nestled against each other in the corner across from the bed, surrounded on each side by plants. Not Doyle’s room, not his room; their room.

“You like it?”

Bodie spun around. Doyle leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He’d evidently rushed through a shower; his hair was slightly wet along the bottom and all he wore was a dressing gown.

“‘Course I do. But we’d be taking an awful chance, wouldn’t we, Ray? ‘S pretty obvious what’s going on here; I thought that’s why we decided to make it look like the other room was mine.”

Doyle straightened and slowly approached him. When he was standing directly in front of him, he wrapped his arms around Bodie’s waist and pulled him close. “This is our place and no one’s allowed in. What they have of us ends at that door.” He motioned his head toward the entrance of the room. “‘S taken too long to get here for me to pretend in my own home, Bodie.”

Bodie brought his arms up and cradled Doyle’s head in his hands. Gently, he pressed his lips against his lover’s, sliding his tongue along Doyle’s mouth until he was allowed in. Doyle’s arms tightened even more as the kiss deepened.

After less than a minute, Bodie felt Doyle trying to pull away. He broke the kiss and, resting his hands on Doyle’s shoulders, gave his lover a questioning look.

“You’re not going to fight me on this, are you?” Doyle asked.

“No, means too much to you.”

“What about to you?”

He looked down, gathering his thoughts. Bodie knew he had to say this just right. Finally, he brought his head up. “There’s no going back for me, sunshine; you’re it, ‘til death or until you get sick of me and give me the boot.”

“Wouldn’t do that, you know.”

“Would hope not. Not after I just lugged all my stuff up here.” He sobered. “Nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Ray; nothing I wouldn’t give you if I could. If you want to paint the walls purple and hang yellow tassels from the light fixtures, well, I guess I’d get used to it.”

“Berk. Wouldn’t do that, either.”

“But if it made you happy, I’d try to deal with it the best I could...after trying me best to talk you out of it, of course.”

Doyle chuckled. “Of course.”

He wound his arms around his lover and gathered him in. Doyle’s chin dug into his shoulder and he could feel his breath against his neck. “I want this to work. You and me.”

“It will.”

“Sure of that, are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Bodie pulled back only enough to see Doyle’s face. “And why’s that?”

“Because I won’t have it any other way. You’re mine, Bodie. You might think you have a choice in the matter; sorry to break it to you, mate, but you don’t.”

He tried not to smile. He almost succeeded. “Guess I’m stuck then.”

“Never doubt it, love.” Doyle looked over at the bed only feet away. “You up to breakin’ it in?”

“Can I take a shower first? Bit ripe.”

Doyle gave him a gentle shove. “Be quick about it.”

Bodie turned and headed for the bathroom. He looked back from the doorway to see Doyle already undoing the tie to his gown. He stood there and watched as the gown slipped to the floor and Doyle slid under the covers.

Doyle glowered at him. “Well, you waitin’ for Christmas, or what?”

Bodie took a last look at the room. It really did look good, especially with Doyle sitting in the middle of the bed glaring at him. He grinned and hurried out.

^^^^^

“So, when we leavin’?”

Doyle frowned. “What makes you think we’re goin’ anywhere?” He himself was perfectly content to stay right where he was. A flannel might be nice, though; the come on his belly had dried and was beginning to itch.

Bodie hitched himself up on his elbow and glared at him. “You said we were, after we finished movin’ are stuff in.”

“You got it wrong; I said we wouldn’t be seen until Tuesday.”

“What are you playin’ at?”

“Not a thing, mate. Got everything we need right here, now don’t we?”

Bodie made as if he was thinking about it. “Gotta eat.”

“Plenty of food and there’s always takeaway.”

“Might need entertainment.”

“You can’t keep up with me, sunshine, there’s always the telly.”

Bodie thought another second and then rolled on top of Doyle “You talked me into it.”

“Thought I might.” Doyle placed his hands on Bodie’s arse. Nice. And all his, forever now.

It’d been easier than he’d thought to talk Cowley into letting them live together. He had timed it to when CI5’s budget was up for review and their boss was looking to cut costs anyway he could. Paying for two flats when one would do seemed criminal to the Scot’s thrifty disposition and was readily agreed to.

He gave the room another look. Nice, too. Maybe not theirs forever; they’d be forced to move eventually. But nice all the same. He looked back at his lover. Home. He’d finally moved home. He wrapped his arms around Bodie’s neck and pulled him close.

 

Finis


End file.
